


Chaotic Symphony

by Batzolli



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2612369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batzolli/pseuds/Batzolli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Growing up, we are all told that one day we will meet that one person we are meant to be with forever and ever. We are told magical tales of chance encounters, a brush of the fingertips, a bump on the shoulder, and chance meeting of the eyes, and then we are done" Maura is successful business woman who sacrificed love for her career, Jane a barista at her favorite coffee shop, will Jane prove to her that you really can have it all? Rizzles coffee-shop/20-something AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I know I should really be working on Kazzoli but I stumbled across an old piece of fiction and thought it would work nicely as a Rizzles AU, and here we are. Enjoy

Growing up, we are all told that one day we will meet that one person we are meant to be with forever and ever. We are told magical tales of chance encounters, a brush of the fingertips, a bump on the shoulder, and chance meeting of the eyes, and then we are done. We fall in love, get married, get a house, get children, get grandchildren, and then get old. Maura loved to be told these stories, especially by her parents, two people who could not possibly be more in love. They had locked eyes at a gallery in New York, and never looked away since. With Constance unable to bear children of her own, they adopted three beautiful children: Kylie the oldest, then Grayson, and then little Maura made their home complete. Every night before bed, the three children would all gather in Maura’s room for the latest tale of love that their parents had dreamed up from their own experiences. Even when Grayson got too old for mushy love tales, he would sit with his family and listen until little Maura was slumbering. Then, father Richard would take his son to his bed, and regale him with manly stories, stories of war and heroes and rescuing maidens, and Kylie would retire to her room with her mother, for one final lullaby, a quick tuck, and a kiss on the forehead. This was a happy household, filled with warmth and love and dreams, everything a child needed to grow into a fairy tale.

Despite the love and caring she experienced at home, school was a challenge for Maura. Not the academics, the youngest Isles was a star student, and that was exactly the problem. While academic success was something to be celebrated in the Isles household, her classmates, who were older and generally bigger than her on account of her skipping the first grade, found her superior intelligence triggered something irrationally cruel within themselves, and Maura was teased mercilessly for her fondness of academia. Coined “Maura the Bore-a”, she frequently came home with barely-dried tears on her cheeks, and to questioning looks from her family. But she simply wiped the dampness with her sleeve and said nothing, choosing the solitary quietude of her bedroom over confronting the fact that while her parents and elder siblings were gregarious and extroverted, with friends galore, she was an outcast, a loner, an introvert.

Maura, at the tender age of just fourteen, has her heart broken for the first time, and she is astonished. Never before has she felt such raw emotion. She really thought Billy Anderson liked her, the thought that he had been dared by his baseball buddies to ask her out had never occurred to her, and the cruel gleam in his eye when he spat out “Why would I ever go out with such a stick in the mud know-it-all,” is one she will never forget for all her days. She knows then how Kylie felt every time she called home crying because of some boy at her university, that aching on the left side of her chest. At that moment she learned to empathize with poor Grayson, whose growth spurt back in middle school had left him gangly and awkward, all elbows and angles, too weird for girls to see as anything more than a friend. It was then that Maura decided to close her heart to love, that it hurt too much when it broke, that it cannot possibly be worth it. Sure, she keeps her love for her family, and friends, but whenever a boy shows interest, she merely ignores that little flutter in her chest that says maybe its him, maybe he’s the one. Over time, with plenty of practice, she learns how to ignore that little flutter, and doesn’t even feel it anymore.

Now, at twenty-five, she is the ultimate man-eater. A rising star in her father’s company, she sees men only as objects, as something to gain a quantifiable value from, whether it be sex, money, or simply to pass the time. She has her passions, yes, things that she values. Her family, her few close friends. Her eccentric collection of art, gathered from those friends and family. Grayson has become quite the sculptor, getting commissions from rich patrons, and galleries. His specialty is marble; he likes the simplicity, and the history behind it. It was during a commission for some business mogul to do a bust that he met his wife, Sarah. She had been the mogul’s assistant. Now they had small house in the suburbs, and Grayson’s main project was designing the nursery they would need for the child he expecting in just a few short months.  
Kylie, just past thirty at this point, is living in domesticated bliss; her husband David is an architect who worships her and their two children, and works hard so that she can stay home and take care of them and their Golden Retriever.  
Maura does not envy them.

At least, that’s what she tells herself late at night when she is curled up on her couch, alone save a bottle of wine and her DVR. Why would she envy them, she thinks to herself as she looks around her hi-rise apartment, her art collection, the designer labels that cover her walk-in closet, her symbols of power and success. She was just as much of a success as they were, just as worthy of seeing pride in her parents eyes, yet still every family dinner and sibling lunch she could see the pity on their faces as she would give them the same line she had been using for nigh on a decade: she was dating, no one serious though. No one worth introducing to her family. No one who could put at ease the nagging darkness that lingered in the back of her mind, no one who made the knot in the pit of her stomach untangle. Most of the time she could ignore it, focus elsewhere, distract herself with work or wine or yoga or sex.

But once in a blue moon the loneliness overwhelms her, descends on her like a black cloud and she gives in to the darkness, too tired to fight any longer than she already has. It is then that she shuts herself in from the world, calls in sick to work and wallows in her solitude, drowning herself in alcohol and prescriptions until the darkness subsides, or until one of her siblings shows up with Chinese food and 80’s movies and brings her out of the haze of depression in the way only a sibling can.  
It is a cold, rainy autumn day in Boston when Maura ducks into the coffee shop down the street from her office. She greets her regular cashier by name, smiling and nodding at the cheerful “your usual Ms. Isles?” As she scans the barcode saved to her phone on the device next to the register, a flash of dark brunette curls on the other side of the counter catch her eye, but by the time she lifts her head the owner of the mane of hair has disappeared behind the espresso machine. As Maura waits by the other end of the counter she closes her eyes, taking in the sounds and smells of Boston Joe’s: the whir of espresso brewing, the whine of milk steaming for cappuccinos and lattes, the hum of murmured conversation between patrons, the occasional soft call of an employee passing on an order, the nutty aroma of coffee as it is ground and brewed to perfection, the sweetness of baked goods. It’s a controlled chaotic symphony on her senses, one she has taken to cherish as a moment of clarity and rejuvenation before what was bound to be a long work day.

A hoarse voice brings her out of her reverie,  
“one medio soy latte, extra shot, for Maura” the barista called out, holding out the steaming cup for her. Maura looked up and was met with the most striking woman she had ever laid eyes on. Tall, with piercing eyes and the cheekbones of a model, dark hair pulled back and covered by her Boston Joe’s cap, Maura found herself frozen, unable to move or look away from the beauty in front of her. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t put words to the feeling that was surging through her veins. All she knew was this girl, who at this point was staring at her like she was crazy, would become a very important part of her life. 

“Thank you very much Jane.” she said, finally breaking out of her trance-like state. Taking the steaming cup from the barista’s outstretched hand, she locked eyes with the young woman, giving her a genuine smile.   
“Its no problem ma’am, just doing my job” Jane replied, a sly grin spreading across the right side of her mouth.   
“Please,” the businesswoman said, holding out her free hand, “Call me Maura, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again, I come here every morning” Jane took her hand, shaking it gently, its slight coarseness sending tingles to Maura’s spine as they maintained eye contact throughout their exchange.   
“Pleasure to meet you, Maura” it was at that moment, hearing her name being once again spoken by the mysterious new barista across from her, that Maura felt the ice around her heart begin the slow process of melting.   
With a nod of the head and a murmured “until next time, Jane,” Maura exited the coffee shop with a warmth radiating to her fingertips, and she knew it wasn’t just because of the beverage in her hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Maura get to know each other better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh this is my first attempt at (sorta) smut-ish type stuff so yeah.

Maura was a very regulated woman, arriving at Boston Joe’s at almost exactly 7:45 every morning, beating the morning rush while also making sure she set a good example at the office by being one of the first associates to arrive. She didn’t want people to think she had acquired her position based solely on her father’s position in the company, and she worked tirelessly to prove her merit, coming in early and staying late nearly every day. Besides bolstering her reputation as a hard worker, it was a safe way to avoid being brought into unnecessary social situations with her coworkers. When she first started as a young, attractive junior associate, she had naturally received many invitations to participate in the activity of after-work drinks, “Happy Hour” she was told. Her first happy hour had been more like two, and had involved more inappropriate gestures and innuendos than the young woman could really ever possibly be comfortable with. After that fiasco she turned down any and all offers for socialization, much preferring to dedicate her time to work, or to checking out the numerous yoga studios that dotted the city.   
It wasn’t until she met a certain dark-haired barista that she began to re-think her chosen lifestyle.   
The day after their initial meeting, she couldn’t help the smile that had emerged when she saw Jane behind the counter as she walked in for her morning coffee, and had blushed, blushed, when Jane had remembered her name and order. Maura ached for an opportunity to really talk with the young woman, but even that early in the morning there was no time for chit-chat.   
A week later, while Maura was walking back to her office garage after an evening yoga session at the studio around the corner, she saw her perfect chance to engage with Jane. Boston Joe’s was quiet, for once, and it was only Jane and one other employee manning the shop. The gentle bell chime as Maura entered caused Jane’s head to jerk up from her sweeping, and a small grin appeared as she recognized her late-evening customer.   
“Maura, bit late for you isn’t it?” she asked, leaning the broom against the wall as she walked back around the counter to the register. “Still want your usual?” she continued, reaching for a large to-go cup.   
“Actually, Jane” she interrupted, halting the other woman’s movement “I think just a small chai tea please, if I have my usual I’ll get no sleep tonight” Jane laughed, nodding as she put the order in to the computer system  
“Oh and make it for here, please” Maura added, taking a seat in one of the plush leather armchairs, making sure to face the counter. They made small talk as Jane moved behind the counter, hands out of view as she crafted the woman’s order, and when she brought it out to her she leaned against the arm of the hair across from her, continuing their conversation until a small group of last-minute customers showed up needing late-evening caffeine boosts. They continued talking in between customers, and Maura learned that the mysterious barista was not so mysterious after all; born and raised in Boston by Italian-American parents, the oldest of her family, with two younger brothers, currently taking classes at a local college to get her degree in Criminal Justice before she enters the Police Academy. Maura was regaled by tales of Jane and her escapades with her brothers and her best friend, a former classmate of hers named Frost who was at MIT for Computer Science, and she found herself laughing and genuinely smiling more that evening than she had in a long, long time. Jane was energetic and engaging, with a wide smile and deep laugh that sent chills down the young woman’s spine, and when Maura told her stories about boarding school and her time in Africa with the Peace Corps her brown eyes never left Maura’s, never gave any sign of being bored or simply entertaining the other woman out of politeness. Jane seemed genuinely interested in what Maura had to say, and it was refreshing and encouraging to the blonde, to have a conversation partner who didn’t tune her out after thirty seconds. Maura didn’t even notice the time go by, and was shocked when Jane flipped the sign on the door to “Closed”.   
“Surely its not that time already?” she asked, truly saddened by the idea of going home to her empty apartment. Jane poked her gently on the shoulder   
“Hey, its just closing time, I’ll see you next time I open” she said, grinning. She held out her hand to give the other woman help out of the armchair, and the warmth Maura felt when Jane’s hand closed over her own traveled all the way to her heart, and she found herself wishing she never had to let go as she stood up. But as soon as she was steady Jane dropped her grip, and she immediately missed that warmth. Jane walked over to open the door while Maura put her coat back on and gathered her things, holding it open awkwardly while her free hand went behind her head.   
“Well, you know how the line goes : you don’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here” she said, letting out a small bark of a laugh at the end. When Maura reached the door, however, her gaze softened, and her arm lowered. “Good night Maura” she said, putting her hand on the other woman’s upper arm when she got close enough.   
“Good night Jane” she replied, placing her hand over Jane’s “I had a lovely time talking, thank you for putting up with me”  
“Anytime” Jane smiled wide as she closed the door and locked it behind the business woman. 

 

*several weeks later* 

Maura typed away at her laptop, completely immersed in work until her focus was broken by the beep of the intercom on her office phone.   
“Miss Isles, there’s a delivery here for you, shall I send them through” came the chipper tone of Sophia, the admin assigned to her department. She frowned, she wasn’t expecting any deliveries. Her online shopping habit delivered to her apartment, and she couldn’t recall being told of any business associates sending anything her way. Shrugging to herself, she hit the button to reply   
“Sure Sophia, send them in”   
Her eyebrows raised and a surprised smile spread across her face when none other than Jane Rizzoli sauntered in, holding a tray with two steaming coffees on it. Rising to greet her unexpected visitor, Maura walked around to the other side of her desk, leaning back against it as Jane reached her.   
“And just what do you think you’re doing here Miss Rizzoli” she said, crossing her arms just below the opened button on her deep red blouse, a wry grin on her lips as she surveyed the barista. Just as she was every day, she wore fitted khakis and a black polo, the Boston Joe’s logo over the right breast of her shirt, hair tucked under a matching black cap. And just as she was everyday, she looked absolutely riveting to the business woman. When hazel eyes managed to travel back up to the one’s across from her, they were met with familiar deep brown,but this time there was something different behind them, something sensual and wicked and utterly intoxicating to Maura.   
“Just thought I would bring my favorite customer an afternoon pick-me-up” came her reply, nearly half an octave deeper than Maura was used to hearing. It sent a shock of nervous and excited energy through the older woman, and she found herself biting her lip as that energy reached certain regions of her body. No one had ever had this effect on her before, to be able to elicit such a visceral reaction without even touching her, with simply uttering a single sentence.   
They had been doing a dance for weeks now, subtle flirting at the coffee shop, but this, showing up at her workplace, this was new. New and bold and god was Jane really licking her lips?   
Jane’s small cough brought her out of her trance, and as her eyes refocused Maura noticed the brunette had taken one of the cups out of the cardboard tray and was holding it out for her  
Inhaling deeply to slow her racing heart, Maura reached out and took the proffered cup, breathing in the nutty aroma of coffee and soy and...a hint of vanilla?   
“Why the vanilla?.”  
Jane grinned, that lopsided half-grin that never failed to make Maura’s underwear just shy of ruined.   
“Figured you would want something a little sweet this late in the day” was her answer, her usually subtle rasp was more pronounced than Maura had ever heard it before, and as she took her first sip of the beverage she couldn’t help but let out a moan of pleasure.   
“Delicious” she said, licking her lips.   
The tension in the room was thick, the two women staring each other down, daring the other to break first. If they had learned anything in their as-yet brief exchanges, it was that they were both fiercely competitive, and neither was willing to give in and make the first move, to give up that potential power of knowing they had made the other cave to their nearly-overwhelming impulses. Maura leaned back against her desk again, this time crossing a single arm under her breasts, smirking when the motion caused its intended reaction from Jane when her eyes followed the movement of her cleavage: pupils dilated, breathing accelerated, throat constricting as she swallowed, all telltale signs of arousal. Taking another sip of her drink, she moaned again as the subtly sweet concoction traveled down her throat, warming her belly, and helping to calm her nerves. Jane’s hand tightened on the travel tray, the other wiping itself on her pant leg as her eyes focused on Maura’s throat, jaw tightening as it watched her swallow. Maura knew now was the time for the coup-de-grate, to “go in for the kill” as they say.   
“Is there anything else I can do for you Miss Rizzoli? Or are you really just here to bring me coffee?” she asked, bringing the cup back up to her lips to take another sip, not once breaking eye contact. Jane looked conflicted, free hand tightening into a fist as she battled against her inner urges, lips in a thin line as she struggled to maintain composure. 

“Ah, fuck it” she muttered, putting down the tray on the chair next to her as she strode the remaining distance. Maura had just enough time to put her coffee down on her desk before Jane’s lips pressed into hers, mouths moving against each other as hands travelled over each other, Maura’s settling at the base of Jane’s neck, scratching gently with meticulously manicured nails while the taller woman kept hers moving, starting at hips and migrating slowly upwards while they continued their energetic kissing. After awhile they stopped briefly to catch their breath and calm their frantically beating hearts., looking into each other’s eyes as their pulses slowed, Maura’s hands still wrapped around the back of Jane’s neck while the barista had settled hers at a trim waist. When they came back together they were more patient, taking their time familiarizing themselves with each other; their taste, the feel of their bodies pressed against one another as their kiss deepened. Jane backed Maura until she was flush with the desk, keeping a gentle pressure until the blonde had no choice but to hop on top of the sturdy mahogany. Maura wrapped her legs around a slim waist, hands still preoccupying themselves with the short hairs at the base of Jane’s neck while they continued to kiss slowly, deeply, sweetly. Mouths opening to give the other access, hands gripping tightly and loosening in poorly-restrained effort to feel more, to get impossibly closer; it was never enough. They had both wanted this for so long, now that they were finally giving in to their feelings it was like they didn’t know where to begin. It was all too much, but they craved more, needed more.   
As Jane moved strong hands to the business woman’s thighs, Maura couldn’t help but dig her nails into the delicate exposed skin of the base of the barista’s neck, causing Jane to moan into her mouth, rolling her hips in reaction to the delicious stab of pain. The increased pressure on her center making Maura match Jane’s moan with one of her own while dragging her nails across the muscular back beneath them, catching on the rough material of her cotton polo. “Off” she murmured, slipping her hands beneath the offending garment and separating from Jane long enough to lift it over her head. The second the shirt was removed she attached herself to the barista’s neck, sucking and biting gently as her hands busied themselves with feeling every ridge of muscle, feel the slight dips between her ribs as they became more prominent with the raising of Jane’s arms so she could bury her long fingers in blonde locks. , gently stroking over the tops of hip bones that peaked out from the waistband of her trousers, gripping at her slim waist so she could pull her closer . Jane moaned, the feeling of teeth and tongue and lips on her neck almost too much when combined with the sensation of delicate hands roaming her exposed torso.  
“I think...you’re a little overdressed miss” the brunette managed to pant out, hands going to the other womans waist, pulling the silky material out of the waistband of her tight pencil skirt, fumbling to grip the delicate blouse without tearing it. Maura stopped her activities to let out a muffled giggle, and Jane took the opportunity to lift the shirt over the other womans head, jaw dropping as her eyes took in the newly exposed expanse in front of her.   
“oh my Jesus…” she breathed as her gaze slowly moved, committing every detail to memory. “You are so fucking sexy”  
Maura swatted playfully at her “Language, Jane!” she said, letting out a surprised laugh when the other woman caught her hand, using it as leverage to pull the blonde towards her, stopping when their lips were mere inches apart.   
“oh, you’re gonna have to get used to that Miss Isles. I have a feeling neither of us will be able to control our language in a minute” she murmured, eyes migrating from her chest to meet hazel, double checking that they did, in fact, want the same thing. She saw nothing but enthusiastic approval of their impending activities, and closed the remaining distance in an instant.   
The weeks of subtle glances and brief touches, the text messages and phone calls, of needing to reign in the feelings and urges that had been present from day one, it was all building up to this moment, to bodies pressed against one another, to hands roaming and teeth nipping and lips and tongues soothing until Jane’s dexterous fingers traveled south and found where Maura so desperately wanted them to be, eliciting a fresh slew of pants and moans that Jane tried to silence, pressing her mouth against soft lips while her hand continued its movement, knowing just the right spots to bring the woman in front of her to ecstasy. She moved her thumb in tight circles, her index and middle finger curling in slick white hot heat and she moved her lips to the other woman's neck, sucking on her pulse point until the combination of sensations brought Maura to her peak, burying her face in Jane’s neck, nails scratching at toned back muscles as she moaned against olive skin, shuddering with her release. When it was over she slumped into the barista’s body, dead weight against Jane’s torso as she recovered.   
“wow” she managed to breath out as she sat upright. “That was…” for once, the woman could find no words. Jane smirked, licking her fingers one by one before she leaned down to pick up her discarded shirt, slipping it back on before kissing Maura gently on the cheek.   
“Anytime darlin’” she said, turning to go. Maura panicked, grabbing Jane’s arm  
“But don’t you want me to, reciprocate?"  
"Oh believe me babe, if I had my way we would be here til tomorrow, but my break is almost over and I'm sure you have important business things to do" she said, placing a chaste kiss to the other woman's lips. "Until next time" she whispered as they separated, and before Maura knew it the barista was out the door, the forgotten coffee cups and her still-elevated heart rate the only proof she had ever been in her office.

**Author's Note:**

> Leaving it as a oneshot for now, but who knows what inspiration might strike in the future. Let me know what you thought?


End file.
